


In a Place Like This

by Medie



Category: Fringe, The Princess Diaries
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Gen Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her dress is in ruins, as battered and bloodstained as the rest of her, but she's every bit as beautiful as the woman who'd charmed the UN Assembly two days before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Place Like This

**Author's Note:**

> A while back I had that [25 Characters Meme](http://medie.dreamwidth.org/1743505.html). One set of tygermama's numbers worked out to be Mia Thermopolis (of The Princess Diaries) and Peter Bishop (of Fringe) which-naturally-meant Walter came along for the ride. Again, this is less cracky than you'd think.

"I don't understand," she's saying when Peter ducks beneath the tape. "I just--how is this even _possible_?" One hand gestures outward, encompassing the carnage around them and he cringes.

This is going to be fun. He looks for Walter, but his father's still outside the security perimeter. The taxi driver has stars in her hair. Walter's in love, but it'll be nothing to when he gets here and finds his favorite monarch in the midst. He loves the Genovian queen even more- _Majesty, son, she's just majesty_ -so yay that, but the corpses and carnage Peter could've done without.

It's still going to be fun, but fun in the Bishop sense of the word and that's without factoring any attempt at an explanation into it.

Peter watches Mia get to her feet, more interested in her surroundings than the state she's in. Her dress is in ruins, as battered and bloodstained as the rest of her, but she's every bit as beautiful as the woman who'd charmed the UN Assembly two days before.

Okay, so maybe she's not just his father's favourite monarch.

He bites his cheek a second before saying, "How does a teenager from the Village end up a European monarch?"

Mia's unsteady on her feet which is why it takes her a minute to turn around. He has a feeling if she weren't, he'd probably be missing his head about now. The frosty edge on her, "Excuse me?" seals it.

God, he likes this woman.

"I know, I know, it's absolutely the epitome of apples and oranges, but take it from me? _Everything_ is. You just can't really get a good analogy going when the situation is one where the laws of physics are more like strongly worded suggestions." Peter fumbles about for a second in his pockets before producing a handkerchief. Miracle of miracles. Astrid will be proud. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you got dragged into this, your--"

"Don't," Mia says, taking the handkerchief. "After what I just saw, I really don't think I can deal with it and being Queen Amelia right now." She twists the white fabric, dried blood flaking away from her fingers. "I just can't--that didn't happen, right?"

She's starting to sway a bit, looking pale, and Peter darts forward to catch her by the shoulders. "You should probably sit down," he says, helping her to a chair and hoping with every step he didn't just create some kind of diplomatic disaster by touching a queen.

He really should paid more attention to Genovian protocol the last time he passed through that country.

God, he hopes none of this is happening there. He likes Genovia. Yeah, sure, he likes here too, but Genovia's kind of a Disney cartoon come to life and that'd be like a hybrid taking Tinkerbell's place. Just _wrong_ and, okay, that was just a little disturbing even for him.

"You're not FBI," Mia says, looking at him suspiciously.

"Nope, I am a consultant." He tips his head at the mess. "That kind of stuff is kind of the family business."

Mia blinks. "Gross."

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Peter grabs another chair, sitting across from her. "There's no real good explanation for it, you know. I mean, I could tell you stuff, and hell, at this point you can probably do a good job of bullying the White House into the whole enchilada, but--"

"I really don't want to?"

"Probably not," Peter nods.

Mia exhales heavily and slumps back in the chair. For a second, he thinks she's fainted, then she tips her head to look at him. "I missed dinner. Mom is going to kill me."

He laughs. He can't help it, but there's a glimmer in her eyes too so he's probably not going to be boiled in oil or anything. "I'll get Agent Dunham to write you a note."

"Thanks." Mia looks at her hands. "Those people--"

He's seen the mess. "Try not to think about it," he says. "Nothing you could've done would have changed anything. Believe me, I've been there. I know."

"This kind of thing happens a lot?"

"More than you'd think," Peter says. "They kind of try and keep it quiet. People, panic, bad feelings and the like. It wouldn't end well." He frowns. " _Won't_ end well. With you in the mix, there's not much chance of keeping this off the radar."

"Don't be so sure, son," Walter says, appearing behind Mia. "People are delightfully stupid when they need to be."

Peter closes his eyes. "Right. Yeah, so, uh, Quee--"

"Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi." When Peter looks, Walter's offering a perfectly formal bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear, an absolute pleasure."

"Your--right, yeah, skipping that for the moment," Peter says, cutting off the honorific when Mia makes a face. Which, yeah, that's a little complicated. Sure, everyone and his gossiping uncle calls her Queen Mia, but no _way_ those nice Genovian guards won't shoot him if he calls her by name. "Anyway, this is my father, Doctor Walter Bishop."

Mia summons up a variation on her friendly smile and then shakes Walter's hand. "Family business, right?"

Walter smiles, but it's a little shaky. Like a lot of things lately and Peter almost frowns, but then his father's looking at him. "Son, did you see that lovely girl's hair? _Polka dots_." He turns back to Mia. "They were purple and pink with the most delightful yellow stars. Really, a quite intricate design."

"Really?" Mia perks up, looking for the cabbie. "I have a friend that would love that." She stands, but her back stays to the scene behind her. Good. "Lily. She'd _love_ that."

"Come, come," Walter says. He offers his arm. "Perhaps one of those nice reporters can lend you a camera." He starts guiding Mia away, stopping long enough to shoot an annoyed look at his son before picking up the conversation again with, "You know, I once designed something for your grandmother. A _lovely_ woman. Terrifying, but lovely."

Mia laughs, leaning into him. "That's Grams all right. What did you build?"

Walter pats her arm. "Can't remember a bit of it."

Watching his father lead the queen and her entourage toward a bewildered young woman with stars painted in her hair and away from the bodies and the blood, Peter grins. "Smooth, Walter, very smooth."


End file.
